


More Than a Crush

by petersfeather



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Adopted Billy, Angst, Country Club Gatherings TM, Dad Hopper, F/M, Fluff, Humor, I gave Steve some family, I guess???, M/M, Mom Joyce, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, bratty billy, canon is trash, don't be mad at me, dunno why i'm in a ~romantic mood~, i might change it maybe, it's very brief but i figured i'd rather be safe than sorry, like... ROMANCE my dudes, rated M for brief mentions of sex, sorry bout it, sorta - Freeform, summer of 85
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23504518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petersfeather/pseuds/petersfeather
Summary: “My parents want to meet you.”It’s Steve’s voice, saying it plainly, as if he’s talking about the weather. There’s immediate silence, Billy’s fingers digging into the warm-to-the-touch flesh of Steve’s arms as he’s holding him.“Excuse me?” Billy asks, Steve’s statement hitting Billy sharp in his chest because what thefuck.“My parents-”“It’s been a good day, right?” Billy cuts in, because he’s not sure he can hear that again and stay calm.~~~Or the one where Billy has to go to a stupid Country Club party to meet Steve's parents... and a special guest.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 17
Kudos: 231





	More Than a Crush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hotdadlicense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotdadlicense/gifts).



> Hey there! ♥
> 
> So this is for the stunningly lovely [@hotdadlicense](https://okayshitbird.tumblr.com/) on tumblr who requested this. An absolutely gorgeous soul that makes my heart flutter absolutely all the time. If you could give them all your love, that'd be grand, thank youu♥
> 
> So the request was for fluff and enough angst to make the fluff really _hit_. I hope I did that justice! There was also mention of Billy meeting Steve's parents. So I had some thoughts and then those thoughts slipped from my hands and may or may not have snowballed into... this.
> 
> 🤷
> 
> This is so over the word limit it's not even funny, and I would say I tried but I definitely didn't try to keep it at word limit but i'm SORRY i swear ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> (Title from Is This Love - Survivor)  
> (That song is also anachronistic for the year I've set this in but we're IGNORING that, alright????)  
>  ~~(I've got my eye on you.)~~

It’s a gorgeously warm summer evening. The chirping of the evening birds mixes with the hum of the bugs creating a far more pleasant chorus than anyone could ever expect, especially someone from a place so different than this. The sound of the world outside is what Billy thinks the sun would sound like. The feeling around him is what he thinks happiness feels like. True happiness. The pure feeling of being content. There’s a short list of things in Billy’s life that have ever felt as gorgeous as this moment.

He’s really not sure why Steve insists on ruining it.

“My parents want to meet you.”

It’s Steve’s voice, saying it plainly, as if he’s talking about the weather. There’s immediate silence, Billy’s fingers digging into the warm-to-the-touch flesh of Steve’s arms as he’s holding him.

“Excuse me?” Billy asks, Steve’s statement hitting Billy sharp in his chest because what the _fuck_.

“My parents-”

“It’s been a good day, right?” Billy cuts in, because he’s not sure he can hear that again and stay calm. “We’re having a good time?”

They pause again. Steve just blinks from his position on Billy’s chest.

“Yes?” There’s obvious trepidation in Steve’s voice. “Are _you_ having a good-?”

Billy cuts him off. He’s _antsy_.

“We got lunch, we smoked a little bit, we watched those birds… we fucked. Twice.”

Steve rolls his eyes like he’s trying to make a point of the action, but nothing hides the smirk on his face.

“It’s been a good day.” Billy says again.

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “It’s been a good-”

“So _why_ are you screwing it up?”

Steve’s face pulls into something that looks appalled, rearing back to punch Billy’s shoulder lightly.

“Shut up!” Steve is indignant. “I’m not screwing with anything!”

Steve’s face is so genuinely irritated that _Billy_ feels like the one screwing things up right now, and he definitely doesn’t appreciate the feeling.

“You _should_ be screwing _me_ -” Billy says with notes of resentment he’s sure he’d never be able to hide.

Steve shoves at Billy’s shoulder again before leaning down to bite lightly at it. Billy squirms involuntarily at the feeling, his body running a bit hot at the feel of Steve’s teeth. It always does that.

“Yeah yeah, shut up.” Steve mumbles against Billy’s shoulder, soft lips grazing the tanned skin as he flops his head down on the pillow next to Billy. “Look, I’m just saying, my parents told me they wanted to meet you.”

“Why do your parents even know about me?” Billy’s voice is a lot softer now as Steve traces little circles around his chest. It’s not voluntary. It’s those damn doe eyes and those damn soft touches that knead his heart into something more malleable; something more gentle.

It lasts for about a second, because he has to slap the hand of his stupid boyfriend who decides he wants to start pulling at Billy’s curly chest hair. Steve chuckles.

“Because I tell them about you.”

Billy sighs. “That’s my _question_ , dipshit. _Why_ are you telling them about me?”

Steve props himself back up on his elbows. His eyes are earnest. It feels like Steve’s hands have reached into Billy’s chest to play with his heart instead. Billy doesn’t think he’ll _ever_ get used to someone looking at him with so much… _care_ in their eyes. So much admiring love. It’s so much that Billy couldn’t even put a finger on what it was for _months_. He just felt this gut feeling bubbling up in him, even lashed out the first few times out of confusion, but now it just makes him feel weak at the knees. Weak all over. Billy’s not used to feeling weak.

But here he is, falling into that now-familiar weakness as he looks into Steve’s eyes that search him like he’s Paradise. Like he’s got all the answers within him.

“Because…” Steve starts again, voice silky smooth and hitting Billy’s heart all over again. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

It’s… _earnest_.

So earnest it makes Billy sick to his stomach.

Billy lightly slaps the top of Steve’s head.

“Shut up, Bambi.” Billy can’t find an ounce of malice to inject into his voice, but it’s not for lack of trying. He hates all this mushy stuff. At least… he _wants_ to hate it. “You’re gonna ruin everything.”

“Am not! My parents always meet my friends.”

“I-th…” Billy pauses. “They do?”

Steve nods. “They’ve known Tommy since we were toddlers and they met Carol a few years ago.”

Billy must get some kind of wistful look in his eye- on his face -because Steve nips it real quick.

“It’s not as sweet as you might think.” Steve pipes in quickly, groaning a bit as he lays his forehead on Billy’s chest. “They do it for their… _reputation_ or whatever. They just wanna make sure you’re not _ruining my image_. They probably hear shit from their friends.”

“Am I ruining your image, babe?” Billy asks, holding the sides of Steve’s head gingerly to pull him up towards his face. He runs his tongue along the shell of Steve’s ear, revelling in the breath released before he twists his tongue around to stick it at least somewhere near the inside of Steve’s ear.

Hey, Billy’s the first to admit he’s a brat.

He gets pushed away, a disgusted sound coming from the boy on top of him. Billy chuckles, liking the feeling of Steve’s weight on top of him as his chest vibrates from his laughs.

“Cut it out!” Steve groans, scooting away minutely. “You’re not ruining anything. They’re just stupid. And they wanna meet you.”

“Okay, well…” Billy’s not sure what else there is to say. He finds no other words fit in his mouth. He gives in. “Okay.”

The air between them turns still and Billy watches Steve’s shoulders stiffen as he looks up, eyes impossibly wide.

“Okay?” There’s so much _hope_ in his voice.

Billy sighs, his chest tight from more than just Steve laying on him. He’s being constricted by every expectation, but he’s not moving any time soon. There’s no way he’s moving away from Steve.

Billy nods.

“Yeah, okay. If your parents wanna meet me… fine. Alright.”

And _now_ the pressure in Billy’s chest is mostly Steve, who has decided to squeeze the life out of Billy in a crushing hug.

If the sound that comes out of Billy could be labelled as a “squeak” or even “unmanly”, he would never in his life admit to it.

“Alright, alright!” He shoves at Steve’s shoulder until the boy lets up. “What are we gonna do? Dinner at the Harringtons? Do I need to wear my slacks?”

Billy wiggles playfully under Steve and winks at him for good measure. Steve rolls his eyes.

“Uh… not exactly.”

It’s not what Billy expected to hear. His heart skips with nerves.

“Well, what are we doing?” Billy couldn’t explain the racing of his heart if he tried. “Your dad doesn’t seem like the type to take me hunting to protect your honor.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, no… uh…. Well…”

“Well what? Spit it out, Bambi.”

Steve bites his lip and it takes all of Billy not to get distracted so he can hear Steve say: “We’re gonna need to go shopping.”

~~*~~

Billy hates shopping.

He hates the bright signs, he hates the fake smiles… he hates capitalism. Really, there’s nothing redeeming about going shopping. Not even Steve Harrington can help his hatred of shopping.

“Billy...” Steve sounds like he’s about to chastise Billy and it’s really _not_ helping.

“Shut up.” Billy hisses, near snapping, but he holds himself back enough to take a breath. “Why do we have to be here? Why can’t I just borrow something?”

“Because you’ve already ripped enough of my clothes trying to fit into them.” Steve says, face blank as he turns to walk into the Polo store. Billy’s mad about it, but he follows after a few steps.

“It’s not that bad.” Billy mumbles, sauntering as much as he can until he walks through the doors and effectively feels himself shrink down. He hates the Polo store. He’s come here a couple of times before, only with Steve. His family isn’t rich enough for this and, truthfully, he can’t imagine going anywhere that would warrant these clothes anyway. All these pastels and collared short sleeves… it’s semi-idiotic to Billy. Not to mention those stupid little shorts…

And… yeah, don’t get him wrong, Steve looks great in _all_ of this stuff. There’s nothing like Steve’s ass in some preppy pants, _sure_ , but that doesn’t mean _Billy_ has to wear them just to appreciate them.

“What about this?” Steve asks, pointing out a baby blue shirt that makes Billy gag.

“Are you kidding?”

“I think it’d bring out your eyes!” Steve says, sifting through the sizes. Billy can’t think of a single thing to do with himself except stand there and watch his preppy boyfriend sort through preppy clothes to dress him in like a doll.

“I think it looks like I’m going to brunch on my parent’s yacht.” Billy pulls a face as Steve chuckles, with some kind of pity.

“That’s kind of what we’re going for, here, babe.” Steve says, keeping hold of the shirt as he searches for more colors. Or something. Billy’s really just being pushed by the wind, here.

And he wants to throw more of a fit. He kind of wants to be a brat about it. He wants to be that little kid inside of him that’s kicking and screaming to leave because he feels uncomfortable and out of place and exhausted… but…

But he knows he can’t because this actually means something. This is meeting Steve’s family for the first time and yeah, they’re not telling them about their relationship or anything, but it’s still important to get this right. He doesn’t wanna give Steve any grief because his parents think Billy is an asshole, and he definitely doesn’t want to have to hide in public any more than they already do. They hide enough, he doesn’t want it getting worse.

It’s just…

“It looks like the Easter Bunny ralphed in here.”

“You’re not wrong.” Steve says on a chuckle before shoving a few shirts into Billy’s chest. “Alright, try these on.”

Billy pulls a face.

“Uh… real funny, princess, but no.”

Billy has only admitted it out loud a handful of times, but Steve looks cute when he gets all defiant like that with his hands on his hips.

“You’re trying them on.” Steve orders. Billy won’t lie, it gets him a little hot watching Steve order him around. “You’re not going to this with a ripped shirt.”

“Like you wouldn’t love that.” Billy says on a scoff, but his voice is quiet. The more he talks back the more sour it tastes on his tongue.

“You know I’d love to rip them off you myself but you _have_ to-”

“I don’t want to go into that stuffy dressing room.” Billy raises his voice. He’s pouting like El. Like a _brat_. He feels it on his lips without even thinking about it but honestly, he’s not sure how he can be rightly blamed for this. He’s so deeply uncomfortable that he’s slipped into default mode, which happens to coincide with “bratty mode”. So sue him.

Steve’s eyebrows are knitted with irritation. He looks like he wants to do more than just sue him.

“ _Look_ ,” Steve starts darkly, hitting Billy with a look that immediately shuts him up. “You’re talking to the guy who went through a major growth spurt the same summer that his mother decided she needed to go to every stupid country club function. I was in that stuffy dressing room _every week_. You can handle like, one hour.”

Billy doesn’t want to say he feels sheepish… but he’s feeling pretty sheepish. He watches Steve pant a little bit from the energy he’s exerted. It’s kind of cute, even though Billy’s heart feels sore for having to be told off.

Because he knows this means a lot. Steve knows this is killing Billy and he wouldn’t make Billy sit through something so draining if it _didn’t_ mean a lot and… and Billy’s been kind of an asshole. He’ll be the first to admit… he’s the only one _allowed_ to admit, thank you… and…

Billy shrinks about 3 sizes. He eyes Steve through thick lashes.

“One hour?” He asks, voice small. Steve is the only one to _ever_ get him this way.

Steve gives a hopeful smile and nods, holding the shirts out yet again. He looks triumphant. Billy lets it slide.

“That’s about as long as I wanna be here, too.” Steve admits, raising an eyebrow to get Billy to accept the shirts.

He does with a sigh.

Billy heads into the dressing room with an irritated flair, aiming for melodrama. He’s standing in the dressing room and feels physically _pained_ every time he puts on a new pastel polo. Which isn’t to say he’s unable to pull off these looks, because he can wear a garbage bag and still be one of the most fuckable people in Hawkins, it’s just… all this _pastel_ and these stupid collared shirts. If anyone were to see him like this, he’d have to beat them up. There’d be no option.

He purposefully ignores the tags, knowing Steve is going to insist on buying everything no matter what he says. He still remembers the time that Steve _insisted_ on buying Billy a new pair of fancy shoes, saying he had just been given some “emergency money” that actually equated to “you just caught your dad cheating for the 3rd time this year, please don’t talk about it to anyone” money before his parents left for yet another extravagant business trip.

Billy felt some kind of pride in “taking money” from an asshole like that.

Now Billy is going to have to _meet_ that asshole...

But still, he doesn’t like money being spent on _him_. It always leaves a weird type of pain in his chest, knowing he can’t reciprocate all these gifts to his boyfriend who very clearly is acquainted with the finer things of life. He can’t spoil Steve as much as he wants to. Not that he’d ever in his life admit to wanting to… but still. _He_ knows. He knows how badly he wants to give the world to Steve and how incapable of doing so he is, but that doesn’t change a whole lot. Steve seems happy with what they have.

_But will he always be?_

“Billy! How long does it take to put a shirt on?”

Billy jumps, stepping out of the dressing room with a scowl on his face that looks far more like a pout.

“You look so good!” Steve nearly coos and Billy is about to _throw_ something at him.

“Shut up.” His face burns and if he’s blushing he’ll punch someone for pointing it out.

And as Billy tries on the handful of shirts that Steve shoved his way, he starts to feel like he’s in some kind of cheesy movie montage. He pouts his way through it, walking out each time and giving his best unimpressed look, spinning when Steve tells him to spin before going back in to change his shirt.

He walks out in a particularly vomit-inducing polo with pale pink and blue horizontal stripes, spinning slowly with his arms out at his sides, before turning quickly to look over his shoulder with a single eyebrow raised. He figures hamming it up is the best way to give himself some entertainment.

Steve laughs.

“You’re a stunner!”

Billy winks in response and saunters back into the dressing room, turning around to face Steve, still eyeing him sexily before saying: “I hate them all.” and closing the curtain with a swish.

And if he smirks at the loud, frustrated groan Steve gives… well he wouldn’t necessarily call it _sadistic_...

They take another walk through the store, and Billy _refuses_ to drag his feet. He may hate it here but he’s not a _child_ , thank you.

Then, the unthinkable happens: something catches his eye. In a _good_ way.

“These.”

Steve seems eager to see what Billy’s talking about, turning quickly. His face cracks into a smile before it’s replaced by a (probably forced) scowl, because there’s no fooling Billy. He _knows_ the boy was about to laugh.

“No… _no_ Billy.”

“Yes.”

“Billy they… they have _skulls_ on them.”

They do. They’re a bright, almost Pepto-Bismol looking pink with tiny skull-and-crossbone images embroidered on them. They kind of make Billy’s stomach ache because of how heinous they are but they’re also the best things Billy has seen in this hell of a store and he thinks they match his own “image”, so… he’ll take them.

“You bet babe.” Billy adds a wink for good measure, picking up the shorts in a couple of sizes before sauntering over to the dressing room. “It’s this or I’m going in just a jockstrap. You know I mean it.”

Steve takes a breath, makes like he’s gonna speak, but Billy turns and gives him a look that lets him know that whatever he’s about to say isn’t going to effectively reach Billy’s ears.

Steve sighs, but there’s a laugh on his lips and its twin can be found in his eyes. That’s one of Billy’s favorite things about this stupidly good looking boy.

When Billy gets to the dressing room, two shirts are being thrown in after him.

“You have to wear a shirt.”

Billy sticks his tongue out.

Steve leans forward to steal a kiss, lightly and playfully biting Billy’s tongue before separating and closing the curtain.

Billy’s mind feels so fuzzy, he barely registers the clothes he’s putting on.

~~*~~

The day has finally come and never in his life has Billy felt like this much of a _dork_.

Something about this really does feel like torture. Even though he knows that right now he’s only surrounded by people who love him wholeheartedly, this still feels like a form of sadism. Billy suddenly thinks he might understand what those little toy poodles go through.

Because right now everyone is… _cooing_ at him. Joyce has stood Billy in the hallway (where Jonathan said the lighting is probably best) and is currently attempting to work Jonathan’s camera to take pictures. Jonathan is right next to her, trying to show her the buttons to press and where to look when she wants to take a picture. Jim is standing behind them, deep chuckles clearly bubbling up in his chest and a smirk he can’t keep hidden smeared all over his face. Every now and then he makes eye contact with Billy and tries a little harder to keep his laughter down. Billy tries to find something to appreciate about it.

El is bouncing around in the back, giggling and pulling Will over to whisper to him. Will just shrugs, face red and laughter hidden in the corners of his smile. Billy knows he can’t get mad at them.

Jonathan though…

“Oh here, you just take it, honey.” Joyce concedes, handing the camera back over to her son with exasperation in her voice. Jonathan scrambles for the camera, hanging it around his neck before turning to Billy with a smirk on his face- a smirk that says: _you’re never living this down._ It’s in his raised eyebrow and all.

Billy’s gonna _kill_ the boy.

“Say cheese.” Jonathan says with the smarmiest grin possible.

“I’ll kill you.” Billy says through gritted teeth, keeping his tone as sweet as possible. Jonathan laughs before taking the shot.

“Okay, okay, now I think we should get one over here!” Joyce is bouncing, tapping Jonathan’s shoulder excitedly. “The wallpaper is nice over here.”

Jonathan is cackling now, mixing with the low rumbles of Hop’s laughter as they walk down the hallway. Will and El move out of the way, heading to the kitchen for something.

Billy’s teeth are still clenched tight.

“I’d really rather not.” Billy says with as little anger in his voice as he can muster.

“I know, I’m sorry, dear, just a few more pictures! It’s just, I have pictures of all the other kids all dressed up and you look so nice!” Joyce brings a hand up to replace a curl that’s slipped out of where Billy has attempted to grease them back. Everything she does is so maternal- it all has such a loving touch that it softens Billy instantly. “Just a couple more pictures? Is that okay, honey?”

It’s just them in the hallway now, the chatter of the other people in the house sounding distant enough that the irritation in Billy’s chest simmers down to just about nothing. It’s just him and this woman who somehow always makes him think about the good memories of his mother. Not even the tangible ones, but rather the fuzzy ones that crop up more as feelings than as pictures. It’s something he’s not sure he knows how to truly appreciate. It’s something he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to again. It’s _warm_. It makes this whole place seem a little more like home.

It also makes it a lot harder to say no.

Because there Joyce is, looking at him like he’s one of her children. Like he’s her son all dressed up for picture day. He’s not fully sure what to do with himself. Especially because she’s asking his _permission_. So few authority figures ever do that.

He sighs.

“Alright.” He says, giving her a tired smile when her eyes light up at his response.

He follows after her into the living room, exhausted just from existing in these stupid clothes, having to look at all of these stupid smiles laughing at him like he’s a _clown_. He feels like a clown.

They’d probably insist it’s out of love and care. He’d definitely beg to differ.

But he’s still standing there, chin tilted up and hands clasped behind his back, doing his best to puff his chest and broaden his shoulders to look as manly as possible… even though he’s dressed like a damn Easter egg.

“C’mon, son, give us a smile!” It’s Hop, humor dancing in his eyes. “Let us see those teeth!”

Billy’s teeth are still gritted, mirth and pain definitely visible in his eyes.

“I swear to God.” He mutters under his breath before allowing the corners of his mouth to tilt up into a smile.

“C’mon a little wider.” Jonathan says through a smirk.

“Just take the picture.” Billy says through his smile, followed by the click of the camera. 

Joyce fusses for a bit, moving over to the wall where all the kids have their pictures hung and trying to figure out the best place for Billy’s to go when Jonathan eventually produces it. Jonathan, still with that amused smirk on his face, wanders over to Billy.

“Hope you know how blackmail worthy these are.” Jonathan says with a glint in his eye. Billy makes sure to shoot daggers back.

“You better sleep with that camera under your pillow tonight, bud.” Billy says with sugar in his voice. He elbows Jonathan, who elbows him back, to which Billy responds with a harder hit.

The two are tussling about like a couple of kids before there’s a knock at the door.

Everyone stops at the sound, but when the bubble pops in the next second they’re all moving to answer it.

“I’ve got it!” Billy calls over the sound of them rushing to the door, taking long strides to push past them and get them away from the knob. “God, you’re a bunch of animals.” He chastises as he swings the door open.

On the other side of the door is Steve all dressed up in matching Easter colors. He’s looking down at his shoes, kicking a bit at the doorway in a nervous kind of gesture the second that Billy opens the door, and in the next he’s looking up with wide eyes.

_He’s nervous why is he so nervous now I’m even more nervous oh God..._

Billy squirms a bit where he stands.

Steve blinks hard. Billy doesn’t appreciate the silence, or the gathering of everyone behind his back that he can sense.

“Well? You got something to say, Bambi?” Billy’s foot is tapping incessantly. He can’t help it. He cracks all the knuckles on his left hand just by using his fingers. He’s _nervous_... and he swears he can feel everyone’s collective breath on his back.

Steve shakes himself out of his stupor.

“You look so good.” Steve nearly breathes it out. It kills Billy.

There are more than a few coos behind him, followed by a few amused chuckles. Billy’s face is currently burning red hot, but it’s not distracting enough to keep him from turning around and glaring at his family.

They’re all crowded together, doing their best to look at the scene in front of them without getting too close. When they get caught, they scatter.

Billy turns back to Steve, face still bright and hot. He absolutely _hates_ the feeling, so much so that he can’t even think about wiping the scowl off his face.

“Yeah, whatever. You do too.” Billy feels sophomoric. Like a young girl who got asked to prom by a Senior guy. Like he’s waiting for his corsage or whatever. He feels so _foolish_.

“Thanks.” Steve says, eyeing Billy up and down. “You slicked your hair back.”

Billy reaches up for it self-consciously. He feels that curl that fell out earlier and brushes it back.

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Why?” Steve asks, a little smile on his lips.

Billy’s not sure why he’s so irritated by the question, but he wants to believe the red on his face that he’s deeply sure is out of nervousness is actually red out of anger.

“I tried to look presentable. This is about impressing your parents, isn’t it?”

Billy’s trying not to snap, but it’s hard not to after being so strung up all week. It’s all he’s been able to think about is standing out in a field of flowers with a bunch of stuffy rich people.

Steve nods. His eyes turn softer, even though Billy’s close to barking.

A tiny shoulder is pressing into Billy’s arm then, shoving him out of the way with surprising strength.

“Hi Steve!” El says cheerfully, beaming her little smile up at the boy.

“Hi kiddo.” Steve says, smiling back just as bright. Billy shifts in place.

“Steve!” Joyce calls from inside the house. Steve and El turn to look at her, but Billy is staring at the stupidly nice shoes on his feet.

_Nervous nervous way too nervous why am I so nervous please don’t ask him in..._

“Won’t you come inside? I’ve got lemonade!”

_Pictures she wants pictures don’t ask for pictures..._

“I’d love to get a good picture of you both, too-”

Billy cuts in. He doesn’t feel too bad about it.

“We’re running late, already.” Billy says, loudly, to try to send a hint to this room full of people who can never seem to take one.

Billy still has his back facing the house, so he can’t see Joyce’s face. He figures it’s better this way, otherwise they’d be dragged into another photo session and Billy really _cannot_ handle that right now. Not when his heart is trying to pack it’s bags and run away to the fucking city. He just looks up at Steve, shooting the boy his biggest, cry for help, _”please-have-my-back-here-babe”_ face that he can.

Steve takes the hint and gives a little nod.

“Yeah, we really are kind of late. My parents don’t like me being late to this stuff.” Steve shrugs. There’s more words on his tongue, Billy can see it. Steve kind of word-vomits when he starts talking about his parents and all the ways he seems to think he disappoints them. It makes Billy’s chest hurt more often than not. It ends in Billy kissing the guilt away more often than not.

“Oh of course! No worries then, dear!” There’s not a lot of disappointment in Joyce’s voice. Billy lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He leans himself against the doorway, facing the other side of the threshold’s frame.

“You can’t drive us?” El asks, looking up with puppy dog eyes that could pull at anyone’s heart.

“Nah, can’t today, kiddo. We have to be somewhere.” Steve says. It makes Billy think something so stupid he wouldn’t even admit it to himself.

_Kids kids kids kids…_

He pushes the thought away to briefly wonder why Jonathan can’t take them. Figures it’s something with Nancy. He’s not dressed yet and the kids seem antsy to be somewhere. He’s fine with his mind on that, on anything away from where he’s about to be headed.

“It’s okay, El, we can just take my bike.” Will says, suddenly showing up at the side of them.

The four of them push through the door, giving their respective goodbyes before Billy and Steve climb into Steve’s car and El crowds Will on the back of his bike. They make the bike look a little small, but they’ve done this before. It still makes Billy laugh a bit. Seeing the two giggle a little when Will loses his balance for a second lightens Billy’s heart.

“Ready to go?” Steve asks, like they didn’t rush out to the car to get going. Like they aren’t _really_ late and like Steve didn’t _really_ mean what he said about his parents, even though Billy knows he did.

Billy nods.

“Yeah, let’s just… do it.”

Steve nods for a little too long. He can’t get the keys in the ignition without fumbling a bit. They drive and Billy can’t even think about how much he dislikes the song currently playing.

He’s _fidgeting_ still.

_Nervous nervous so nervous why am I so nervous what the fuck is wrong with me-_

“You nervous?” Steve asks around a bubble in his throat. He clears it with a cough after he speaks.

Billy snorts unattractively and pushes back his hair, even though the curl isn’t loose anymore. He reaches for the top of his button down, unbuttoning and rebuttoning because he needs to do something.

“No.” he lies through his teeth.

Steve gives a little sigh.

“Yeah, me too.”

It confuses Billy for a second.

“What?”

“I’m nervous, too.” Steve says, voice a little shaky. Billy doesn’t know what to say. He feels appreciation bubble up inside of him that he tries to mask with irritation.

“I’m no-” His voice catches and immediately he’s mad about it. “I’m _not_.”

It sounds so stupid now that it’s out in the air. He looks out the window, like it’ll help the heat blooming on his face. He unbuttons the second button too.

Then there’s a hand taking hold of his left one. Billy looks at it, watches Steve’s thumb rub at the skin between his index and thumb. He looks up at Steve, who’s still got his eyes on the road.

“Thanks for… agreeing. I know it’s shit. Trust me, I don’t want to be going here either. But… it means a lot. And no matter what, I’m still your boyfriend, alright? I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

Billy’s eyes prick with tears. He’s not even sure _why_ they’re there, but he blames it on how high strung he’s been all week. How pulled taut he’s felt since Steve brought this whole thing up. He’s just boiling over, that’s all.

Steve looks over at him, eyes getting soft and worry resting in his brow.

“Billy?”

“Just drive, you idiot.” Billy mumbles, turning back to the window while grabbing firm hold of Steve’s hand.

~~*~~

Billy is beyond uncomfortable.

Truly _beyond_ uncomfortable. He’s itching in his button down, which Steve insisted looked better than the dark blue polo and would be much cooler to wear than the dark color in the bright sun, but Billy barely heard him. After a certain point (and that damn kiss) Billy just trusted Steve’s judgement.

But now he’s _itching_. He’s still unbuttoning the top button on his shirt, fingers twitching to unbutton the next one (or two) along with the first, but knows Steve would just close them up like he’s been doing with the top one.

“You’re not my mom.” Billy had muttered, squinting in the sun of the bright summer day.

“No but I’m your boyfriend.” Steve had said quietly, fixing the button again and making Billy’s heart palpitate.

And now they’re standing in a damn garden, big, bright, white, fancy, canopy tents propped up and scattered around the park, a little ways away from each other so you have to wander into the bright sun to get to the next one. There’s fancy tables with fancy trays of fancy food that Billy finds absolutely ridiculous.

Steve’s parents have been talking to people for the past twenty minutes. Steve made eye contact with them and waved once they arrived, but both of them just gave vaguely pleasant smiles while still schmoozing whoever it was that was more important than their son and his friend. That they _themselves_ requested to meet.

_Assholes._

“Whatever.” Steve had muttered under his breath before veering towards a waiter carrying around what Billy assumed was a tray of mimosas. Billy, for as nervous as he was and still is, didn’t exactly want to start drinking before he even spoke to the two. Y’know, good first impressions and all that. He hadn’t known before what it felt like to _care_ this much, but he doesn’t exactly hate it.

Steve has downed about 3 mimosas, the two of them standing a ways away from his parents so that they can jump in when they’re free.

They still have to wait about five minutes before it’s their “turn”.

“Hi mom, hi dad.” Steve says, something plastic about his movements. It’s weird for Billy to watch.

“Hello there, Steve.” His dad says in a pleasant enough way. He doesn’t set off enough alarm bells in Billy’s head for him to get upset.

“Hello dear.” Steve’s mom says pleasantly in turn, leaning forward to give Steve a sideways kiss on his cheek, keeping her lips from making contact so she doesn’t smear him with lipstick. Steve purses his lips a bit as well.

“This must be your friend!” His mother says it like she just noticed him standing there. She offers a delicate hand, palm down, showing off her perfectly manicured nails. It seems like she’s asking Billy to kiss it or something. He reaches for it and decides it best to give her the satisfaction. He’s been trying to parse out how thick he wants to lay all his charm on. He finally decided “real thick” was the best option.

He leans down and gives the back of her palm a light kiss, immediately noticing that her hands don’t really give away her age like some other mothers Billy has come into contact with. Billy isn’t able to tell what age she may be. Steve insinuated once that his parents had him young- younger than was advised for them both- and now Billy thinks that probably makes sense.

When he comes back up, she’s giving him that _look_ that makes his stomach churn. The look that every mother in his life has ever given him, save from his own and now Joyce. The look that comes off as if she thinks she’s the first to give it, but that Billy has seen since he was about 14 and his voice dropped.

Billy turns his attention to the father. He gives the firmest handshake he can, just on the edge of bruising the man’s skin. He’s a lot taller than Billy, hair perfectly groomed back with just the right amount of gray in it to make him seem wisened. He’s real young too- so young Billy thinks he may have dyed his hair a little gray to get that “salt and pepper” look that’s probably on trend or something. It makes Billy internally roll his eyes.

The man’s not exactly stocky, but he’s not trim either. Probably eats his fair share of expensive meats and works out a couple of days a week just to say he does. Maybe to fuck his personal trainer. Billy’s extrapolating now, but he doesn’t think he’s reaching very far.

“Nice to meet you.” Mr. Harrington says like he’s not at all displeased by this interaction. Billy takes it as a win. “I’m Charles Harrington.”

“Nice to meet you too, sir.” Billy’s mouth doesn’t want to form around the title, but he gives it anyway. Laying it on thick, and all. “Billy Hargrove.”

“He is quite a handsome one, isn’t he?” Steve’s mom asks, grabbing Steve’s arm to wrap her own around it. It’s like she’s talking with one of her socialite friends and thinks she’s out of ear shot.

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yes, and he can hear you.” Steve mutters. Billy watches as her face doesn’t move a muscle but her hand claws slightly into her son’s arm.

“It’s always so nice to meet one of Steve’s little friends.” She starts again, eyes crinkled into a smile that’s not entirely disingenuous.

It’s not evil. Billy’s seen his fair share of evil women. She just seems a little less than satisfied with whatever situation she’s in. Billy does know that Mr. Harrington is a serial cheater, but he hasn’t heard anything about the mother. She’s still young and an attractive enough woman as far as Billy can tell. She could probably get one of these rich bastards to fuck her in one of the dozens of rooms at the country club.

Either way, it’s not really his business, and he doesn’t really want to think about his boyfriend’s mom getting railed while she’s gazing hazily at him like he’s the one that would do it for her. Either that or like he’s the man she probably reads about in her horny novels.

Steve has something poisonous on his lips, probably something like “he’s not little”. Be it with a dirty undertone or not, Billy guesses it doesn’t really matter.

He’s still fidgeting a bit, but he keeps his charming composure up.

“And it’s nice to finally meet the Harringtons. I’ll say, you’re definitely far from matronly, Mrs. Harrington.”

Billy doesn’t know if he should do the typical, cliche thing and say she looks like Steve’s sister. Considering she had him pretty young, it might strike the wrong chord.

Whatever, he said what he did with enough sugar to make her blush.

“Oh, Billy.” She tuts, rolling her eyes a bit and placing a hand on one of her cheeks, clearly becoming a bit flush. Billy takes a bit more pride in it than normal. He _is_ here to schmooze, after all. “I bet you drive all the girls just _crazy_ , don’t you?”

Billy’s been in this situation for about two minutes and already he has to feel out if he should act like a smarmy slut or like a proper gentleman.

He figures in-between is the best bet. Doesn’t want them catching on or anything...

“There’s definitely a few girls.” He says, hands clasped behind his back so he can hide his fidgeting. “But they don’t seem to get that I’m a wine and dine kind of guy.”

Billy has had what probably equates to about 2 glasses of wine in his whole life. He figures the tiny details don’t exactly matter.

He’s laid the charm on thick enough to get Mrs. Harrington giggling again, and said it with just enough charm to get Mr. Harrington to chuckle the smallest bit as well. It’s an oddly good feeling.

“We’ve got a regular casanova on our hands.” Mr. Harrington says with something that sounds like acceptance in his voice. “Good thing, too. I feel like we don’t get a lot of your kind in Hawkins.”

Billy gives them a smile and shifts his eyes to Steve, who looks a mix of nervous and amused. If only these two knew that more often than not he’s riding their son in the front seat of his Camaro, or fucking him up against the hood, or laying out in a field shotgunning a joint. If only they knew he sucked their son dry in the locker room after basketball practice back when they were still convinced they hated each other.

 _Casanova_ indeed. _Real_ wine and dine.

“And your shorts!” Steve’s mother pipes up brightly. “So colorful! I love the little spots embroidered on them.”

“Actually, they’re skulls.” It’s Steve who admits to it, an irritated look on his face that’s somehow also laced with smugness. He’s clearly trying to get under their skin as much as they’re under his.

They both turn to Steve, before looking back down at Billy’s pants. The two lean in a little bit.

“That they are, huh?” Mr. Harrington says, sounding semi-impressed. “Well, would you look at that! A sense of fashion, as well!”

Steve rolls his eyes. Billy makes eye contact with him so he can share this semi-triumphant moment.

Steve seems about to say something, but his father cuts him off.

“So tell us, Billy-” Mr. Harrington seems hard pressed saying the name “Billy”, and it gives Billy some weird, perverse joy. “What does your father do?”

Billy’s immediately winded by the question, throat held tight by the thoughts that race through his mind in an instant.

In his stupor, Billy’s vaguely aware of Steve puffing up in defense.

“I already, _told_ you, dad, he-”

Billy waves him away.

“It’s fine.” He mutters, before looking Mr. Harrington squarely in the eye. “My dad is the Chief of Police.”

It feels weird- alien on his tongue and in his head. It sets stress loose from its reign, running wildly through his body. It causes his blood to rush too fast, too loud through his veins.

“Oh! Chief-” Mrs. Harrington says, before her mind catches up with her ears. “Uhm… Chief…” Her voice is getting quiet, eyes hooded in confusion as she turns to her husband. “Chief… Hargro…” She’s clearly grasping for straws here. “Chief Hopper? Right?”

She’s speaking in a rather loud whisper, but only to her husband. Mr. Harrington shrugs a bit.

“Yes, ma’am.” Billy speaks up, when he’s finally able to. “My dad is Chief Hopper.”

“Ahh…” Mrs. Harrington breathes, still a little confused and looking slightly unconvinced. She’s giving him a smile as she processes the information before it hits her. Billy sees the realization light up in her eyes. “Oh, _the adopted one_.”

That whisper is quieter, more secretive… more careful that others won’t hear.

It strikes a chord in his chest. Billy wants to be mad about it. He wants to close himself off from whatever feelings it gives him. He wants to build up some armor… but it just makes his heart sink. He didn’t think _that_ would be the response people would give.

Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s something upset living on his mouth, making it twitch.

Mrs. Harrington gives a careful look to her husband, before turning back to Billy with a pleasant smile. It’s a little hard to find anything false in it, but he can definitely see it. It makes him briefly wonder how much of their life has been hidden behind polite smiles just this side of false.

“That’s very interesting, Billy!” She says, like he’s a toddler that just told her about how he picked up frog collecting- like he’s a _child_. It’s condescending. It should make Billy _angry_.

It sinks his heart further.

“It’s not _interesting_ , mom, it’s normal.” Steve hisses under his breath, eyebrows low over his eyes. Billy feels stupid, standing around, letting them talk about him right in front of him.

“Well, yes.” She sniffs haughtily, straightening her back ever so slightly. “Of _course_ it is, it’s…”

Mr. Harrington cuts in. “Chief Hopper is a good man. He does a lot for this town.”

His voice is like that of a robot’s, inflectionless and calculated. Billy doesn’t need to be told about Jim, but he’d be interested to hear Mr. Harrington say more. As far as Billy knows, Hop hates these two.

Mrs. Harrington takes a light breath in, about to say something when her gaze is suddenly locked on something far away, and she’s tapping her husband’s arm incessantly.

“Charles, the Wilson’s just arrived.”

She gives her husband a look that he returns, and then they’re turning to the boys with matching smiles that make them look like they belong on a billboard advertising new homes.

“It was just so lovely finally meeting you, Billy.” Mrs. Harrington says, eyelashes fluttering. 

“But we do have some business to attend to.” Mr. Harrington chimes in, allowing his wife to take his arm. They stand together like a shiny puzzle, obviously matching but not worn enough to really fit. “But enjoy yourselves, boys.”

“Yes!” Says Mrs. Harrington again, pleasantly, even though they begin to walk away. They’re floating away gracefully while still talking to the two. “I suggest the deviled eggs over on that table there. Mrs. Carlton finally made them again and I swear they’re to die for.”

They wave politely before rushing off, sending tittering words of hello to everyone they pass by.

Billy watches after them, stunned a bit at their presence and unsure of what to make of everything that just happened. He opts for turning his attention to Steve, who somehow has another mimosa in his hand.

“God.” Steve mutters before downing half in one gulp. “Well, say goodbye to them for the rest of the day.”

Billy’s shocked at the admittance.

“Seriously?”

Steve shrugs with an eye roll as he downs the rest of his drink. He gulps around his answer.

“Probably. _Business_ usually means buttering up a few people for the rest of the party.” Steve sighs. “Trust me, I’ve been left alone at enough of these to know.”

He sets his glass on a passing waiter’s tray.

“So… I did good?” Billy asks, wondering how Steve picks up drinks so easily from those passing trays and wondering still if maybe he can do it or if he needs Steve to do it for him.

Steve is a little ways away, a little distracted if his eyes are anything to go by. Billy pinches his arm back to the present.

“Oh! Yeah, you were perfect. I think you pleased them enough to make them ignore us for the rest of the day.”

Billy feels proud about that.

“So we can go?” 

He knows it’s hopeful thinking, but he lets his chest lighten for a second. Steve’s chuckle brings him back to reality.

“Not if you care about me, we can’t. My mom will have a tantrum if we leave before four.”

“Four?” Billy asks incredulously, eyeing more drinks as they walk by.

“Yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes. “It’s some stupid, unspoken rule.”

Billy sighs, watching all the rich, pretty people around them as they socialize. He’s still itching in his shirt, but a little less so, knowing the worst part is over. It _has_ to be over. He did his job of impressing the parents and now he just has to… be eye candy or whatever. Whatever these rich people want.

“Let’s just hope I don’t run into anyone who wants to talk about how much I’ve _grown_.” Steve mutters. “C’mon, I wanna find those deviled eggs.”

Billy follows like a puppy.

~~~

It’s…. strange… watching Steve float around from table to table, effectively deflecting people he doesn’t wish to talk to in such a polite and collected way. 

Billy was prepared to take the brunt of the conversations, but to his surprise Steve does most of the talking. He schmoozes almost as perfectly as his parents did, giving the same plastic smiles Billy has been watching him give all day, allowing the women to pat his shoulder or grab his arm or tell him how “strong” he is now; how “old” and “mature” and “handsome” he’s gotten.

Something a little sick fills Billy’s stomach, but it’s pushed away by the butterflies… probably more accurately described as something akin to “moths”. Or lightning bugs. Or maybe those big, thick, black flies that buzz louder than they ought to. Yeah, those.

It’s just that every second that passes leaves him out of place. Pushes him further and further to the left of where he should be. Women are laughing and talking with Steve, and Billy really is just the arm candy. He gives them smiles as polite as he can muster. Sometimes they eye him up and down (always getting caught on his bright shorts), and ask who he is, where he’s from… what his father does.

“He’s the Chief of Police, ma’am.”

“Oh!” They say, eyes wide and smiles fallen, before picking them back up and insisting Chief Hopper is a “very kind man” before sauntering away with some excuse of finding a friend, or a drink. Or their husband. Sometimes they have something a little more knowing in their eyes; sometimes their eyes get wide with memories and they look at Billy with blushing faces that aren’t because of his own good looks. Billy’s not an idiot- he’s heard about Hop’s affinity for “getting around” before El came into his life, and he kind of figures that must be what they’re so embarrassed about now. It makes Billy chuckle.

He doesn’t like watching these women touching Steve, though. He’s glad when they turn leering gazes onto him rather than reach out to grab at Steve’s arm.

“Oh, so _you’re_ Billy Hargrove.” One woman, a Mrs. Sadler, says with a weird glint in her eye and irritation spread thin over her voice.

“Yes, ma’am.” Billy says with as smug of a look as he can muster, trying his best not to look as awkward as he feels. “Does my uh- reputation precede me?”

He hates that he falters, but he says it with enough charm that she laughs a shrill sort of thing.

“Oh, yes. You really caught my Addison’s eye when you first moved to town. My lord, you are _all_ she would talk about for at least two weeks.”

Ah, Addie Sadler; the quiet little sophomore girl who stared at Billy every day at lunch from across the cafeteria before getting dared to lay a kiss on Billy at a party. Ever since then she hasn’t so much as made eye contact with him. He’s kind of happy about it- her stares used to weird him out.

“Now I can certainly see why.”

The woman reaches a hand out to touch Billy, but somehow Steve talks their way out of the situation, grabbing hold of Billy first and saying he needs some company to find his parents to “ask them something” but “thanks for the well wishes on college, Mrs. Sadler” and “say hi to Addison and Jacob for me”. 

Billy’s so thankful for his boyfriend he could kiss him. Lord does he want to kiss him. Billy’s been trying to scope out the place for the past hour to find a corner they can hide away in.

They end up at the next tent over, where Billy recognizes enough people to know they’ve already talked to them and thus, shouldn’t be bothered.

“Thanks.”

“Course.” Steve says, love in his voice even if he can’t show it physically.

Billy’s itching again, absolutely _itching_. He feels like there’s ants crawling all up inside of his pretty, new, collared shirt.

He eyes another tray of fruity drinks that passes by them and taps Steve’s shoulder.

“I’ve been trying to get a drink all day, how the fuck do you stop one of those guys?”

Steve laughs.

“You just reach out and grab a glass. Here, what do you want?”

Billy looks around, weighing his options. He’s never tried champagne, but he’s not the biggest fan of orange juice. He thinks there’s someone walking around with sangria but he really doesn’t care for the taste of wine.

Then he sees a couple of men huddled in a corner together, laughing heartily, drinking some beers.

Billy points.

“They’ve got beer, where’d they get beer?”

Steve eyes them curiously. “Oh, you have to ask someone for that. I can- uhh- waiter!”

One of the waiters stops suddenly in his tracks, tilting his head to indicate his attention.

“Can I get a couple of beers, please?”

“Of course, sir.”

He asks about different brands Billy’s never heard of. He assumes they’re probably craft beers. Steve looks to Billy, who probably looks more than a little shocked. He’s never had any kind of craft beer before. They’re expensive, and he just gets what he can from the drug stores. He shrugs.

“Whatever you recommend is fine.” Steve answers, slipping money into the man’s hand and giving another plastic smile before turning to Billy with a simple look. “See?”

“Well la dee da, Mr. Country Club.” Billy says, giving a little bit of a smile back. Steve shoves Billy’s shoulder.

“Shut up. I had to go to enough of these I’ve lost track, I had to learn some things to keep myself sane.”

“It’s just… weird.” Billy admits, leaning against a table behind him that luckily isn’t littered with tiny foods or abandoned glasses of wine. “Seeing you in your… ‘natural habitat’ or whatever.” Billy uses air quotes for good measure, because truthfully, the words don’t seem right.

Steve snorts.

“Yeah, sure, so natural.” He says almost huffily, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I just know enough to get by at these things. I _hate_ them. I bet only about 3 people of the dozens here actually give a shit about if I’m going to college or not.”

“That why you’re lying and telling everyone you are?” Billy asks, the smirk on his face masking the worry he feels. Steve sighs.

“Yeah, because they don’t care. Not really.” Steve grabs a tiny biscuit or something as a waiter walks by with it. “They just wanna hear me talk. Seem polite to keep up appearances or whatever.” Steve shoves the food in his mouth with a shrug. “Plus they all got their kids into college. They paid them all off. My parents would _kill_ me if I told people they didn’t pay my way.”

Billy tries to think of something to say, but the waiter is back with the two beers.

“Thank you.” Steve says politely after swallowing. The man bows his head a bit before scurrying off.

“Here ya go, babe.” Steve mumbles the last bit. “I’ll hold the other till you want it.”

“Thanks.” He mumbles back, thinking about how if he’s this uncomfortable _now_ how he can’t imagine what he’d feel like as a kid.

They stand around and talk, Billy taking note of how anxious Steve seems to be now that he can’t pick up another fruity drink being paraded around.

“I think you should slow your roll on the drinks, babe.” Billy says, lips at the tip of the bottle. “Not unless you want me driving your fancy car home.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Whatever. I guess.” He sounds bitter. His eyes are shifty, looking at everyone around him, waiting for the next person who’s gonna come after them to start asking questions.

Billy reaches a hand out, time feeling a little sticky in the summer heat as he decides where to put his hand. What he _wants_ to do is grab Steve’s hand and put his other on Steve’s chest, over his heart, and pull him in tight and kiss his nose and be _soppy_. It’s soppiness that heals Steve faster than anything. Soppiness that gets him all melted and calm.

What he does is grab Steve’s shoulder and squeeze, shake his shoulder a tad till Steve is looking him in the eye. He injects as much love into his gaze as he can, knowing that’s the only place he can really get away with it.

Steve seems to appreciate it. He takes a deep breath and breathes out slowly, albeit a little unevenly.

“Sorry.” Steve says like he’s ashamed. Billy pinches Steve’s shoulder.

“Stop that. This place is shit, I know you think so too.”

Steve nods. “I just… I know I’m different here.” Steve swallows because he’s nervous. “It’s gross but I- I can’t help it. It just comes out. I grew up here, I-”

Steve is reaching up to run his hands through his hair, mussing it up until Billy pinches his shoulder again and slaps his hand away.

“Shut up, you idiot.” Billy’s stern, but not harsh. Steve looks him in the eye again. “The only thing that’s _different_ is you’re not happy. I haven’t seen that famous Harrington smile of yours all day.”

Steve chuckles a bit, but it’s not good enough. Billy reaches out to poke Steve’s side, eliciting a laugh and a noise of indignation.

But there’s the smile.

“Hey, warn a guy.” Billy chastises with a smirk on his face. “You’re gonna blind someone with those.”

Steve laughs, and shoves at Billy’s shoulder again. It’s the only contact they can get without attracting unwanted attention. But it’s not much different from their everyday lives anyway, careful of every touch they give so as not to get anyone suspecting anything. They just enjoy what they can when they get it.

They’re standing there, chuckling lightly with each other, eyes sparkling and bright, when-

When they’re interrupted by the roar of an engine, followed by the shrill sound of La Cucaracha blasting through the air, causing more than a couple of women to shriek and jump.

Everyone in the party turns to the parking lot, where a pale yellow, 1953 Coupe DeVille is currently driving past.

Billy’s heart jumps a bit at seeing the car. He can appreciate a nice car when he sees one.

“Now _that_ guy, knows how to ride in style.” Billy says, arms crossed, looking at the car in appreciation.

When he doesn’t get a response, he looks to his boyfriend, to see his face has fallen in shock.

“Grammy.” He whispers under his breath, so low Billy almost doesn’t hear it.

“Huh?”

Steve blinks.

“It’s… it’s Grammy.” He shakes his head a bit, blinking heavier, coming out of whatever weird memory he’s in. “Uh, my grandma. It’s my grandma.”

Billy’s about as surprised as Steve looks. He signed up for _two_ parents, not a family reunion.

“Your _grandma_? Drives _that_?”

Billy hasn’t seen his grandmothers in a while, but he can safely say they never drove anything like… like _that_.

Steve just nods.

“Yeah… uh. God, they didn’t tell me she was coming, why didn’t they tell me she was coming?” Steve sounds more on the side of shocked than angry.

Billy looks around to find Steve’s parents standing amid a small crowd, looking at the parking lot in what Billy could only describe as “shameful horror”.

He laughs.

“Somethin’ tells me they didn’t know.”

Steve looks over to them, shaking a bit. Billy wants to help. He places a hand on the small of the boy’s back, knowing no one’s paying anything else but the coupe much attention. He leaves it there for a second or two and takes it away just as quickly, but it’s the thought that counts.

Suddenly, Steve’s parents turn towards them, and then they’re gliding towards them with a purpose.

Billy isn’t sure what exactly to do with himself. He feels stupid for thinking it, but he thought he was done. He _really_ thought he was done, but now he’s _fidgeting_ again. Itching in his shirt, itching in his skin, _itching_ itching itching.

“Steven.” Mr. Harrington says by some way of greeting. It’s far more authoritative than before. It almost doesn’t feel like the same man. Steve just nods his response.

“I know.”

There’s a pause. Then:

“Well, we’ll just… we’ll just have to... “ It’s Steve’s mother. She’s obviously shaking with nerves before she turns to Billy with a collected smile. “Billy, I’m so sorry, I’m afraid we’re going to have to… steal Steve away. For just a bit.”

Billy nods, but doesn’t get much of a chance to say anything before Steve’s mother links her arm with her son and the two drag Steve away, leaving Billy there to watch.

Steve shoots an apologetic look back at him.

Billy waves.

He downs the rest of his beer before he realizes that Steve left the second bottle there on the table for him. Billy picks it up and looks for a way to kill time.

He feels immediately untethered. It only takes a few feet between him and Steve for Billy to feel the line connecting them snap, and along with it his sanity in this place. In an instant he feels like a child, lost without his parent. He feels idiotic, bobbing out at sea, an untethered boat floating away from the dock, pushed into vulnerability.

_Nervous nervous fucking hell why am I so nervous goddamnit I… I…_

He needs to sit.

He mentally debates between staying close enough to Steve just to be able to see him and have comfort, or getting as far away as possible so as not to attract attention to himself from Grandmother Harrington. Or… whatever side she’s from.

He figures the latter is probably better. Maybe if he hides away, acts busy, looks somewhere else… he won’t have to meet her.

_Another tent another tent another tent…_

Billy wanders out of the tent he’s under and towards another one, before getting caught up in the sun and the comfort it gives him for a second. He lets it burn comfort into his skin.

Standing in the middle of a perfectly manicured field, staring at the patches of well-gardened flowers with something boiling and vile in his chest. Something so deeply uncomfortable and unnatural. Something almost _rotten_. He thinks of the time and the effort spent on making just these _flowers_ look presentable enough for these rich people. He thinks about the poor men who sit out here and work at maintaining all these stupid plants that these people never come out to appreciate because they don’t go anywhere near the damn sun. Like they’ll melt. Maybe they will.

…

He thinks about how pretty that flower is. _That_ one. With the reddish-purpleish petals. Lots and lots and lots of thin petals. He thinks about Steve. About how the only reason he’s here is because of Steve. About how that’s what makes all of this _worth_ it… Steve.

He feels something bubble up again in his chest. It overpowers the other stuff. It makes him a little less sick.

As he reaches out to pick it, all he can think about are Steve’s eyes. Steve’s skin. How good this flower will look in the pocket of Steve’s stupid little button down.

“What are you doing?”

Billy startles.

As he turns his head to find the voice, he doesn’t expect to have to look down to see a face.

It’s a little girl. Her curls are perfect and pinned away from her face with shiny little things that Billy thinks Max would gag at, no matter her age. Her dress is a pastel blue and just the slightest bit too fancy for what Billy thinks this event is supposed to be. Billy’s still not even sure _what_ this event is supposed to be, truly, but this girl looks like she’s going to church. She has earrings Billy thinks may be her mother’s and a bossy little scowl that’s definitely all her own.

“I _said_ , what are you doing?”

Billy’s still got his hands around the stem of the flower. He plucks it from the bush. The girl gasps.

“You’re not supposed to do that.” She says, matter of factly. Her hands are on her hips. Billy raises his best _oh-yeah?_ eyebrow, paired with a _what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it?_ smirk.

“And who said that?”

“My mother.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I used to try to pick ‘em and my mother said no.”

Billy snickers. “Maybe you should stop listening to your mother, kid.”

Her eyebrows curl in on themselves. “Hey! I’m not a kid. I’m eleven.”

Billy laughs something a little fuller. “Sounds like a kid to me.”

“I’m _eleven_.” Her hands curl into fists on her hips. “And you’re not supposed to do that.”

She looks pointedly at the flower in Billy’s hand. He follows her gaze to look at it too.

He wants to give it to Steve. He wants to lay it on his ear, tipped under his hair. He wants to tuck it into his shirt pocket.

He can’t do that out in public. Billy twists the flower in thought, mesmerized for a second by the petals spinning in a dizzying pattern. He’s taken out of it in an instant. He decides what to do just as quickly.

“Not even if it’s for you?”

Her eyes light up immediately, glued to the flower like it’s a promise ring or something. Her smile sneaks its way out and something about it makes Billy feel warm. Like when he makes El laugh, or when he makes Max smile and punch him, or when he makes Joyce giggle that happy little giggle where she has to cover her whole face with her hand. He doesn’t know this girl at all, but something about her smile after seeing her scowl at him like that makes him feel like he’s accomplished something. He smirks in some kind of strange triumph.

She takes the flower and holds it close to her, inspecting the petals like she’s doing a quality check.

“I _guess_ that’s okay.” She says into her flower, shrugging little shoulders. Billy laughs a bit, looking back at the flowers and wishing again for a second that he could have given it to Steve instead.

There’s a moment of silence, Billy getting lost in his thoughts of Steve and kids and family and if Steve is done yet-

“Are you famous?”

It’s the girl. Billy looks back down at her.

“Huh?”

“Are you _famous_?” She enunciates like he’s dumb for being confused. Like what she just asked wasn’t supposed to catch him off guard.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs her shoulders again, looking down at her flower with a face scrunched up by the sun. “The only time I see boys with hair as long as yours is when they’re famous.”

“Really?” Billy asks on a scoff. He knows his hair is a little over the top here, but he couldn’t even count on his fingers how many people he saw with mullets back in California; with hair longer than his back in California. There were countless people that had hair that could rival your local hair band. Then again, there are probably no ‘local hair bands’ out in Hawkins.

“Indiana’s pretty boring, huh?” Billy asks.

She shrugs again, picking at something on her flower like she’s bored. “I guess. I dunno.”

Billy scoffs and looks back at the flowers. He briefly wonders what it’s like for the kids who grew up here… who spend their whole lives here. The poor kids who get stuck here. They’re probably the ones who sit around in the parking lot of that drug store on the corner of Hyde.

“What’s your name?” Comes the little voice again. Billy becomes vaguely aware of the awful slow rock in the background. It sounds like something by Paul Simon.

“Billy Hargrove.” Billy licks his teeth around it.

“Ha!” She nearly shrieks. Billy doesn’t get as startled with this one. “So you _are_ famous!”

“I’m not.” He’s definitive about it, but her determined face doesn’t let up.

“Are too.” Her hands are on her hips again, the flower still held gently in her left hand. “My brother used to talk about you _all_ the time. He doesn’t shut up.”

“Really?” That perks Billy’s ears up. His mind flips through all of the faces at his school like a flipbook. “Who’s your brother?”

“Connor.”

“Huh…” There’s only one Connor that Billy can think of: Connor Blake. He sticks his nose up at _everyone_. Billy can’t say he’s less than curious about whatever that prick would have to say about him. “What’d he say?”

She shrugs again, looking towards the tents with her face still scrunched up in the sun. “Weird stuff. Stuff about your eyes and your muscles and your hair. He’s _weird_.”

That makes something electric light in Billy’s chest. There’s a full blown _cackle_ brewing in him, but he just lets out a cool chuckle. Connor is a more than decent looking guy. He has a nice nose, for whatever that’s worth, even if his lips are a little non-existent. He’s always come off as the ‘holier-than-thou’ type. Not like Billy is much of one to talk, but still. Something about the boy and his high horse never seemed to lend to any particular gayness in Billy’s eyes. Obviously he pegged him wrong.

“Maybe you’re just not old enough to get it.” Billy says over a smirk.

The girl shrugs again. At this point Billy’s sure her shoulders are going to get caught in those earrings. “I dunno, I’m pretty old. I’m eleven y’know.”

Billy rolls his eyes but there’s still a smirk on his face, albeit a tired one. “Yeah, I know. Where’s your brother now? Did he come?”

Her curls flip around themselves as she shakes her head. “No, he never comes to these because my parents say he gets to pick, but I’m still too young to pick if I wanna go or not.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. But I’m _eleven_. I should get to pick.”

“Yeah, you should.” Billy really does agree.

“Can you tell my mother that?” She’s looking up at him now, nose all wrinkled up.

“Sorry kid, I think you have to do that for yourself.”

“ _Olivia_!” Comes a shrill voice that Billy wishes wasn’t getting closer. “Stop bothering this young man and come say hi to Mr. and Mrs. Whitman.”

“ _Mom_!” The girl yells back. “Billy says I’m old enough to pick if I wanna come here or not.”

“Billy?” The woman asks, getting closer. Billy turns to greet her. “Billy…” She says quietly, doing her best to place the name right up until she sees his face. “Oh! Well hello there.”

Billy gives a tight, close-lipped smile. The woman fixes her hair where it’s already perfectly piled on top of her head.

“Why, you’re Billy Hargrove, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes yes… everyone’s talking about how Jim Hopper’s son is here today.”

Billy’s confused at that, wondering what everyone’s deal is about him being adopted. His mouth twists up a bit, involuntarily.

“Jim Hopper?” The girl asks. She looks about as confused as Billy feels. “The policeman? He came to our school once. He’s kinda fat to be your da-”

“ _Olivia!_ ” The woman clicks her tongue, swiping purposelessly at the air in her daughters direction.

“It’s _true_.” The girl mutters, looking down at her flower and spinning it. Her mother clicks her tongue.

“Oh please.” Her mouth twists in distaste. “And didn’t I tell you not to pick flowers?”

“Billy picked it for me!” The girl says indignantly, crinkling her nose up in defiance now. There’s a very obvious difference.

The mother’s demeanor changes instantly, face smoothing over in understanding as she turns approving eyes in Billy’s direction.

“Oh! Really? Well then, that’s fine.” Her voice is dripping in liquid sugar. She looks like she wants to reach a hand out to touch him, but her daughter is piping up again.

“Hey!” She yells, catching the attention of both of them. Billy’s not religious, but he might want to bless this child. “That’s not fair! Why can _he_ pick flowers but _I_ can’t?”

Her mother looks exhausted. It makes Billy chuckle.

“Because, sweetheart,” She says, the sweetness entirely fake now. It makes Billy taste something bitter. “You’re a _lady_ and he’s a _gentleman_.”

“And _gentlemen_ get to pick flowers?”

“Yes. For the ladies.”

The girl, Olivia, gives her mother a look like her mother is trying to pull one over on her. She looks down at the flower, and then up to Billy, who gives an unimpressed look matching his unimpressed, single-shouldered shrug.

The girl turns back to her mother.

“That’s _dumb_.” Olivia states, very matter-of-factly, before walk-skipping away, dress flouncing around her.

Her mother looks _beyond_ exhausted.

“Olivia!” She tuts again, calling after her in her shrill voice before turning back to Billy.

“I’m so sorry about her, Billy. I have to go get her. But it was so nice to meet you!”

And with that, she flutters away, skirt flipping around her calves as she takes tiny steps in her tiny heels along the grass.

Billy chuckles a bit. He eyes the flowers for a second before walking away, deciding against picking another one in favor of finding some kind of food to eat.

He winds up in front of a very large tray of the world’s tiniest sandwiches. He’s immediately irritated by them. He can’t pick one up in a way that feels… _manly_. He has to pick them up with just his fingertips or else he squishes them.

But they’re made of some kind of surprisingly hearty turkey along with some fancy tasting cheese and a little bit of crispy ultra-green lettuce and the softest white bread Billy’s ever seen… so…

He picks 3 up in one swipe and places them on the nearest empty plate he can find.

They’re disgustingly good. Like, unnaturally good. By his 5th one he wonders if maybe it’s their size that makes them taste so good. They really shouldn’t taste this good.

He nearly forgets his beer in his tiny-sandwich-stupor. He takes a swig as he grabs more tiny sandwiches. He checks his wristwatch (that Steve insisted he wear) as he shoves a sandwich in his mouth.

It’s been about 20 minutes since Steve left to go talk with his grandma.

Billy settles in, slouching over the table a bit.

A woman comes up to politely chat him up, making like she’s bored or like she was sent here on an order or something equally unbelievable. Billy just as politely turns her down.

He checks his watch. About 25 minutes since Steve left.

He takes a pull off his bottle. Turns down another woman coming by feigning extreme interest in the beer Billy’s drinking. She ends up walking away dejectedly with just a couple of sandwiches on her tiny plate.

29 minutes.

He’s on probably his tenth sandwich when a man comes up with a weird glint in his eye. He’s persistent, he’s tall, and worst of all, he’s drunk off his rocker. He leans a hand on the table, right next to where Billy’s leaning on his elbows. Billy leans back in his chair.

The man has a proposition on his tongue, hidden by the slimiest grin Billy’s ever faced.

“Hey there.” His voice is gravely. It grates on Billy’s ears. “I haven’t seen you at one of these before.”

Billy shakes his head and chews on the inside of his cheek.

“Nope. I’m a friend of someone.”

“Ah, _you’re_ the adopted kid.” Billy’s not sure why that’s such a hot-button topic around here. He’s sure that he doesn’t like it, though.

“Yup.”

“Y’know,” the man slurs in what he must think is a hushed tone, leaning down a little further. Billy does all he can not to lean back any further away from the man’s physical advances. “I heard our Chief Jimmy Hopper is a pervert.”

It sets Billy’s skin on _fire_ and absolutely boils his blood. He’s a kettle over the highest heat.

The man starts to laugh a real heavy, guttural laugh. Billy’s seeing red. He takes a deep breath and absent-mindedly plays with one of the fancy napkins on the table.

“You’ve got about 5 seconds to get away from me before that nose of yours gets broken.” Billy keeps his voice strong and flat and as intimidating as possible.

Billy watches in his periphery as the man moves back.

“You… what?”

Billy looks him straight in the eye.

“I didn’t stutter. Get away from me now or you’re gonna end up walking away with a broken nose.”

The man blinks hard twice before his face shifts into anger.

“Is that a _threat_ , son?”

“It’s a promise, _sir_.” Billy’s face is screwed up in anger, surely red as a brick. His eyes shift over to the man’s wife on the other side of the tent. He knows it’s his wife, because she’s one of the women that came up to Billy and Steve earlier in the day. This man was with her. “Or I could always tell your wife you’re the _real_ pervert.”

“Oh come off it-”

“It’s Marci, right?” Billy asks, leaning over so he can see past the man. He takes a deep breath to make like he’s going to call out-

“Okay, okay!” The man stops him, grabbing his forgotten glass of some dark drink off the table and taking a swig of it before leaving, muttering darkly to himself.

Billy’s disgusted. He checks his watch.

34 minutes.

Billy’s _fuming_. He shoves a few more sandwiches in his face and gives a mad eye to a woman who approaches him. She gives a kind, nervous smile before grabbing a piece of fruit off the plate and walking away a little quicker than she came, no words exchanged.

38 minutes.

Billy’s tapping his fingers on the table, watching everyone schmooze and laugh their twinkling little laughs and he’s gonna go _mad_.

A young girl walks up to him. He recognizes her from school.

She opens her mouth to speak, eyelashes fluttering so hard she could cause a hurricane, but Billy cuts her off before she gets a chance.

“No thanks, dollface.”

She looks like she’s been slapped for a second before she recovers and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear.

“But I haven’t even _said_ anything, yet.” Her voice is as mousy as her features. Billy’s so irritated he can barely see straight.

“Yeah, well you’ve got that look in your eye-”

“What look?”

“And I know you’ve got a boyfriend.”

She swallows and straightens her back out a little bit, shifting on her feet haughtily.

“Well, I could just as well _not_ have one.”

Billy’s stare is poison. He makes sure of it.

“Yeah, and I could just as well tell Trevor that you stuffed your bra just to come over here and talk to me.”

She balks.

Billy doesn’t exactly like saying it. He doesn’t do that shit anymore and he doesn’t like to let people rile him up like this. The words feel gross and heavy on his tongue. He’s just _fed up_ and everyone is bothering him and he feels like he’s been on display since he’s been here and… and… and these stupid _tiny sandwiches_ and-

“Well, those shorts look _idiotic_ on you.” She spits out at him with tight lips, like it’s an insult he actually cares about. She turns quickly on her heels and swishes away purposefully. Billy doesn’t find any atom of his body that cares.

He’s sitting there staring at the sweaty condensation that’s collected on the bottom of his beer bottle, then at the intricate pattern on the fancy napkin, then at the fancy tray holding the sandwiches, then at the face of his borrowed watch.

He’s on the last sandwich on the middle of the tiered tray when he hears someone clear their throat. He rounds on them like a _bull_ , mouth prepping to tell them off… when he sees that soft, chocolate brown hair that (irritatingly) comforts him instantly.

“Whatcha doing, stud?” Steve’s hands are shoved in his pockets and one annoyingly nice eyebrow is raised.

Billy grumbles.

“Eating.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. These sandwiches are stupid by the way.” Billy picks a few up in one hand and flops them down on his plate. “They’re so small. Why are they so small? I hate them.”

“Uh huh. That why you’re eating them all?”

Billy gives Steve a dirty look, and makes it even harsher when he sees the boy smiling at his expense.

“Yes. The sooner I eat them all the sooner I don’t have to look at them anymore.”

Steve laughs and Billy responds to it with a growl.

“You’ve been gone almost an hour.” Billy mumbles, thumbing at the napkin in front of him again.

“You’ve been counting?”

Billy shrugs. He’s not sure what to say, so he figures saying nothing at all is best. He glances at Steve for a second, before deciding he doesn’t wanna see the boy’s smug face.

“And this what you’ve been doing while I was gone? Eating all the sandwiches?” Steve reaches out for one on the bottom tray. Billy watches with rapt attention and wants, impossibly, to grab the boy’s hand and hold it in his own. He feels a little sick to his stomach at the thought, but decides to blame it on how quickly he’s been eating.

“I also picked you a flower.” It’s out of Billy’s mouth before he can think about it.

Steve outright _laughs_ at that, and if Billy’s face turns the same color as that sangria everyone’s drinking, he’ll kill the person who points it out. He slouches down a little further, tearing slightly at the napkin.

“You did _what_?”

“I picked a fucking flower for you, alright?” Billy hisses, looking his boyfriend straight in the eye this time. He’s even more mad at what he sees, which is the softest expression to ever grace this boy’s stupidly pretty face. God he wants to deck him. If he wasn’t so in love with those dumb doe eyes and that idiotic pink mouth… and his soft heart… he would really deck him.

Steve’s smile is melting Billy into a puddle.

“Really?” Steve asks on a whisper. It makes Billy itch in his skin. He looks back down at the napkin he’s slowly tearing to pieces. “Well, where is it, then?”

Billy nods his head in the direction he saw the girl last. “I gave it to a girl.”

“You gave it to a _girl_?”

Billy smirks at the jealousy he hears in Steve’s voice. He feels even better when he looks up and swears he sees green on the boy’s face.

“Little Olivia Blake.” He says with a smug grin. Steve visibly relaxes before laughing in on himself. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just funny you picked her.” Steve says, grabbing a few grapes from the top tier of the tray. “They’re close family friends. Her parents always joked that if they ever had a daughter, they would marry her off to me.” Steve rolls his eyes at the statement, but he’s got a fond smile on his face that twists Billy’s stomach up.

“Why would they say that?”

“They’re nutty. They own a big department store a couple of towns over, but they like to live here because it’s _quiet_ or something. I dunno. My parents used to joke that it’d be a ‘good move’ to merge our families together. We’ve got a running gag that Olivia and I are ‘betrothed’.” Steve pops a couple of grapes in his mouth. “She gets a real kick out of it.”

“Hm.” Billy grunts, spinning his beer bottle around on itself where it sits on the table, making the tablecloth wet underneath it. A thought hits him with a smirk. “Hey, did you know Connor Blake wants to fuck me?”

“What? Connor Blake? What makes you say that?”

“Your little fiance told me he used to talk about my muscles all the time.”

Billy looks up at Steve through his lashes with a sly grin to see Steve’s face flushed red. There’s a second or two of silence between them, something light and electric in the air before they melt into helpless giggles, both dropping their heads and shaking them in disbelief. It’s a good couple of minutes of laughter between the two, and it’s the happiest Billy has felt all day.

When it’s over, Steve finally sits down.

“So uh… your grandma?” Billy asks, half his napkin torn into ribbons.

Steve nods like it’s an answer, before he seems to remember his words.

“Yeah, she wants to meet you. My mom accidentally let it slip that one of my friends is here. I think she’s kind of drunk.”

Billy’s heart takes off _running_ , beating wildly like a bird in a cage. Most of his napkin is in shreds now. He watches Steve for a bit and notices that the boy seems just as nervous as he is… fumbling with his fingers and biting at his lip.

“So… I have to go over there?” Billy asks. Steve shakes his head.

“No, she said she’d come find us. She had to talk to someone else first.” Steve’s tapping his fingers on the table and it’s rapping on Billy’s head at the same tempo.

“Is there uh… anything I need to know about her? Before I meet her?”

Steve sighs a very tired sigh, but at least his tapping stops.

“Yeah I mean… she’s a little… crazy?” Steve says, biting at the corner of his bottom lip and rolling a grape around on a napkin. His posture is hunched and small. His eyes flicker on everything near his hands and back again. He’s _nervous_. It’s freaking Billy out.

He doesn’t say anything other than that. Billy figures he has to take the non-existent bait.

“Her car is pretty killer.” He says, sitting up from where he himself was slouched and leaning over the table, both arms folded as support in front of him.

Steve snorts.

“Yeah well, funny you say that…” Steve says, popping the grape in his mouth when he seems to be done uselessly playing with it. “She bought it after my grandpa passed away.”

He pauses again, for a little too long. Billy’s jumping to fill the silence with something.

“That’s not weird.”

Steve snorts again, grabbing more tiny fruits off the tray.

“ Well there was this big rumor that she killed him for his money so… she thought it was funny and wanted to play into it or something.” He eats a little piece of cantaloupe and Billy tries very hard to understand what any of Steve’s words mean. “I mean obviously she didn’t do it but, she thought other people didn’t need to know that.”

Billy’s mad at the pause now, moving to sit forward still, waiting impatiently for the end of the story.

Steve just shakes his head at his fruit with some weirdly disapproving face.

“You’re _serious_?”

Steve laughs a tired laugh.

“Yeah. I told you, she’s nutty. She’s also like, super into going to church. She started getting extra involved because her neighbor accused her of being friends with Satan or something? She’s really old fashioned though and has all these awful thoughts about poor people and she likes to rile people up for no reason. And she’s not very… motherly.”

Steve’s a little out of breath. Billy wants nothing more than to hold his hand.

“What side of the family is she from?”

“My mom’s side.” Steve’s a little quieter now, heavily mesmerized with the fruit in front of him. “My mom hates her. I can tell.”

Billy knows Steve’s relationship with his parents isn’t exactly cherries and ice cream, but… seeing your parents get so upset is emotionally draining. He’s felt something like that before. He used to get blamed when members of the family would reach out to Neil. It was stupid and it made Billy grow to resent any time the phone ringed.

He reaches his hand out, linking just his pinky with Steve’s restlessly tapping one. It’s a small gesture, hidden well between the tray of food and the centerpiece on the table.

Steve’s body visibly melts out of its stressed out state. When he looks up at Billy, it’s with that appreciation in his eyes that makes Billy want to kiss him harshly to get him to stop. Billy has to look away, but he grabs on tighter with his pinky and hopes with his heart to make this the least painful experience possible.

“Steven!”

Steve _jumps_.

He jumps nearly out of his skin and hits his knee on the table in response. He scrambles out of his seat, knocking a couple of grapes off the top tier of the tray when his hand hits it in his hurry to unlink himself with Billy, even that slightest bit.

“Steven did you _have_ to wander off so far away?” She accuses, voice a little young on Billy’s ears for what he would expect of a grandmother. Billy feels glued to his chair, a little out of breath from the sudden fracture of the moment he was just in. Steve’s back is covering the woman from Billy’s view.

“Sorry. Hi Grammy.”

Billy hears her tut. “Stop that, we already said hello to each other. Don’t waste our time.”

“Sorry.” Steve mumbles, fingers fidgeting restlessly where he has them hidden behind his back.

Billy watches a hand grip Steve’s right arm, nails manicured just as perfectly as Mrs. Harrington’s were, but a deep red that come to a bit more of a point than Steve’s mother’s. She has rings on all fingers, each different sizes with different shiny stones embedded in them. She grips rather tight, and Billy watches Steve lean down to give one of those weird side kisses everyone has seemed to do today when they recognize someone. It’s over quick enough that Billy doesn’t get a good look at her face.

“Where’s your friend, Steven? I came over here for him, didn’t I?”

Billy’s heart jumpstarts like a car.

“Oh, yeah, Grammy, this is my friend Billy.”

Steve opens his posture up to Billy sitting behind him. He figures this is the time he should stand up.

As he does, he finds himself standing in front of a short woman. She’s got her hair smoothly styled in something Billy thinks would look fashionable for the 1950’s or 60’s rather than the 80’s. Her earrings dangle and sparkle almost blindingly, even though they’re nearly hidden from the rays of the sun. Her makeup is fairly minimal and her eyes are youthful but knowing, piercing Billy’s mind in a way that makes him feel stuck and helpless. Like she’s a black widow preying on him and his weaknesses.

She has a fur wrapped around her. Billy assumes it’s mink because that’s all he knows about furs. Her bag is rather large and unmistakably fashionable. Billy doesn’t want to stare for too long, but he _swears_ something is moving from inside of it.

“Billy, this is my Grammy Genevieve.”

She reaches one of her manicured hands out. Billy accepts it, her hand a lot younger looking than Billy was expecting, but still showing age in a way that Mrs. Harrinton’s didn’t. When Billy leans down and gives it a kiss, it’s on instinct rather than decision.

He straightens back out to find her eyeing him curiously. Billy holds her gaze, fearful this is some test he needs to pass. Her grip gets tighter and tighter.

A few moments go by before he’s released from her grip and being given an approving look.

“Well isn’t he just as handsome as the day is long?”

Steve gives a grateful smile for a second before training his face back into something blank. When she moves to sit, both Billy and Steve go to hold the chair out.

Steve’s hand gets hit.

“Stop, let your handsome little friend here do it.”

Steve sits down with a muted nod, but he keeps his back held straight.

After Billy sits down, in a whirlwind of thoughts that he can’t pin down, he comes back to reality to find Steve’s grandma mumbling into her bag.

“What is it? What do you need?” She asks, reaching a hand in to… stroke something? It looks like she’s stroking something. “Do you need food? Water?”

Billy looks to Steve with a look he’s trying his best to keep away from ‘bewildered’, but he shouldn’t be blamed if it gets there. Steve’s still got his back rod straight, but his eyes are tired and he’s idly playing with a grape again.

“Stop fidgeting.” She chastises, again hitting the top of Steve’s hand. Steve quickly shoots his hand into his lap, nodding.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just do it.”

Steve nods, but Billy notices another apology on his lips. Billy matches Steve’s posture, back up straight, but he’s abusing the inside of his lip in his nervousness. Something about this woman freaks him out a little more than he thinks she ought to.

“Steven, get me some water, will you?”

Steve nods and steps away, leaving Billy there with the woman and her moving bag that Billy really can’t take his eyes off of. It looks like it’s _breathing_ and Billy’s waiting for a snake to slither out or something.

“So, William.” Grandma Genevieve starts, still stroking the inside of her bag like it’s a _normal_ gesture. She doesn’t continue what she’s saying until Billy looks up at her, making him realize she’s referring to _him_. Billy hasn’t been called William in… he’s not even sure he could count how long it’s been. “How are you in school?”

_Horrible. My teachers hate me. They give me bad grades for no reason. I have to get my dad to rough them up to treat me fairly-_

“Fine.” He lies, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Thanks.” He tacks on quickly when her eyes don’t let up.

She seems satisfied with the thank you, but she’s not letting up.

“Are you going to college when you graduate?”

_No because there’s no point. Why would I? They’re just going to drain all the money I don’t have and it’s not like I have enough potential to actually make it there, let alone make it through-_

“I don’t graduate until next year.” Billy offers.

“That’s not what I asked.” She stands firm, fixing him with a look that makes him want to apologize, too.

“Uhm-”

“Don’t stutter. Speak clearly.”

“No.” He says quickly and honestly. He can’t lie with her looking at him like that. He feels like he’s been cornered.

She lifts a single eyebrow, the look in her eyes entirely disapproving.

“Hmph.” She says, looking down into her purse like he isn’t worth looking at. It makes his chest boil with something less than anger; something that makes him want to apologize again. “That’s a little foolish. What do you plan on doing?”

Billy doesn’t even fully register the insult of being called foolish.

“I don’t need college to go into a trade.”

“What trade?” She asks, voice dripping with what Billy thinks must be venom. He’s more than half expecting that snake to come out soon.

“Auto Body work. Mechanic work.” Billy speaks in stuccatto. He really can’t help it. “I like cars.”

She looks back up at him, eyeing him up and down in the most brutal evaluation Billy thinks he’s ever been given. He feels _frightened_ in a way that feels entirely new.

It’s a few moments of that- a few too many moments.

“Hmph.” She huffs out again. “I see.”

She’s still pinning him down with a stare, but after a few more seconds of silent judgement, it’s over. Her gaze is a little softer at the end, but it may be a trick of the light. Billy’s just glad it’s over.

Steve is speaking before Billy even notices his presence.

“Here you go, Grammy.”

“Thank you, Steven.” She says, taking hold of the clear bowl holding water inside of it. She places it in front of her and moves her bag closer to the edge of her lap, just resting on her knees.

Steve sits and sighs a bit, getting Billy’s attention. His eyes are apologetic and his mouth twists up in a way that lets Billy know he’s asking if he’s okay. Billy nods, eyebrows furrowing a little to prove it. His heart is beating wildly, but he’s sure Steve can probably tell.

In the corner of his eye, something flesh colored and… _rat_ like slowly rises out of the woman’s purse.

He snaps his head towards it, nearly jumping.

It’s… it’s a _cat_. It’s a naked cat.

It leans forward, slowly and gracefully, to lick up the water in front of it.

“There you go, Cleo.” The woman mumbles, stroking the cat’s head once again. It gives a croaky meow as a response in between it’s licks.

Billy can’t stop staring. He’s never in his life seen a naked cat before. It has wrinkles and folds that go on forever.

_Why does she carry this thing in her bag-?_

“So William,” The woman says diplomatically, again not continuing until Billy gives her his undivided attention. “Are you the reason my grandson looks like a beatnik?”

“Grammy-”

“Enough, Steven, I wasn’t speaking to you.”

Steve hangs his head, looking to the left of him, possibly staring out at the flowers.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.”

“Your hair is outrageously long for a young man.” She states plainly, still stroking her cat’s head.

A little fire starts in Billy’s chest.

“I didn’t tell Steve to grow his hair out. If he did it by himself, that’s his business.”

Steve’s head whips around so quickly Billy’s sure his neck must be sore, but Billy doesn’t break eye contact with the woman.

She’s eyeing him harshly again, mouth twisted up like she’s tasted something bitter. They stare at each other for a few moments, but there’s a lot less fear in Billy’s chest now. He’s right and he knows it. He shouldn’t have to sugar coat things for this woman who obviously doesn’t sugar coat things back.

The distaste on her lips twists into a smirk, Billy’s sure of it. He doesn’t get too hopeful though. She looks back down at her cat.

“Hmph. Alright.” 

She doesn’t say anything after that. Billy’s not sure why, but he feels pretty safely like he’s won something indescribable.

He’s overwhelmed with the need to take a piss.

“Steve.” Billy says clearly, looking at his boyfriend who’s eyeing him owlishly- like he’s shocked.

“Yeah?” Steve answers, shoulders shaking a bit.

“Can you show me where the bathroom is?” He’s sure to be as concise as possible in front of this woman.

“Yeah. Uhm, excuse us, Grammy.”

She waves a manicured hand in the air.

“You’re free to go.” She says dismissively before mumbling to her cat.

The two boys, for as cool as they typically are, jump out of their chairs a little less than smoothly.

They don’t speak until they get to the building that houses the bathroom.

“Holy _shit_ , Billy, how did you do that?”

They’re out of breath, both from rushing to the building and from the tense exchange they just shared.

“Do what?”

“Get her to _like_ you?”

“She likes me?” Billy tries his hardest not to sound so shocked, but it’s difficult.

“I think so.” Steve admits, looking back at the tents even though they’re much too far away from them to see her from here. “What did you talk about while I was gone?”

Billy catches his breath.

“College. What I’m gonna do after school.”

Billy doesn’t even have to say what she said for Steve to look sorry.

“God. I’m sorry about her.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, she’s so… she’s so harsh.”

“It’s fine, Steve.”

“It’s not, I can’t even imagine what she said-”

“ _Steve_.” Billy grabs Steve’s hands, which are reaching up to rake through his hair again. “Shut up. Stop worrying. It’s _fine_.”

Steve’s eyes are wide and nervous, his hands shaking slightly, his lips worked over by his teeth.

He melts.

“Yeah… yeah okay.”

“I love you.” Billy mumbles it out before he even thinks about it. They’ve said it a few times before, but every time feels like shots of electricity shooting up through Billy’s bones. It makes Steve start to shake a bit again.

But his eyes soften, the skin around his forehead relaxes, he looks a little more peaceful and that’s what Billy wants.

“I love you too.” Steve whispers.

They separate quickly, even though they’re far away from anyone that could see them. Better safe than sorry.

They take their time to be quiet for a second while they’re both in the bathroom, letting the water of the sink drown out the silence between them. Billy’s mind is swimming with so many things they don’t slot correctly in his mind. He’s trying desperately to make sense of anything through his still-present nerves.

As they’re walking out, he just says the first thing on his mind.

“So are you _really_ gonna marry that little eleven year old?”

It slips out of his mouth like a piece of gum when he tries and fails to blow a bubble. It feels stupid. It’s all he could think to say.

Steve shoves his hands in his pockets but doesn’t say anything for a second. Billy turns to see his mouth moving around a smug little smirk.

“Are you gonna fuck Connor Blake?” Steve asks by way of response. It hits Billy’s chest.

“What? _No_.” Billy’s adamant, annoyed that he didn’t get an answer. “Why would you ask that?”

Steve shrugs with a chuckle. “I dunno, I thought we were asking stupid questions.”

Billy chest unwinds. He laughs. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Just asking.”

Steve shakes his head, but Billy doesn’t look up to see it.

“How’d you even meet her?”

Billy shrugs. “She came up to me when I was picking a flower for you.”

Steve grabs Billy’s arm to get him to stop. They’re close to the tents now, but the gesture isn’t too suspicious.

“Are you serious about that? Did you actually pick a flower for me?”

Billy’s face blooms red as blood rushes to it. “Yeah, I told you.” He wants to fidget. His shirt feels too tight again.

Steve smiles.

“You’re a sap.”

“Shut up.” Billy hisses, ripping his arm away. His face won’t stop blushing. “I just… I love you.”

Billy’s mumbling now, his head down. Steve clicks his tongue.

“Awww…” Steve coos quietly, and Billy doesn’t need to look at him to see the irritating smirk on his face. He looks up anyway, just to glare at him.

“Whatever. You know I love you. How many times do I have to say it?”

Steve’s smug and Billy swears he could slap that look off his face if he didn’t care about him so much.

“I dunno. A few times a day would be nice.”

Billy rolls his eyes. He’s gonna say something, but suddenly there’s a synth song overtaking the previous synth song. Steve gasps.

“I love this song!” He hits Billy’s arm.

“All this music is awful-”

“Shut up!” Steve hits Billy’s arm again. “This song is good!”

Billy listens a little closer to the rhythm of the synth. It sounds like “Is This Love” by Survivor. Joyce likes to listen to this song with Hop sometimes when it comes on the radio. It’s kind of gross, honestly.

“Aw,” Steve coos again, watching the pretty little fancy couples on the make-shift dance floor in between two of the tents, out in the sun. “I wish we could dance. Is that stupid? That’s stupid. Sorry-”

Billy rolls his eyes as his boyfriend babbles next to him. He does a quick scan of what they can see, and decides something without much thought. Maybe it’s the singing that picks up that pushes Billy’s heart.

_~I’ve heard talk of blind devotion…~_

“Go ask Olivia.”

Steve turns with confused but earnest eyes.

“Huh?”

“Go ask Olivia to dance.”

“But why-?”

“Just _go_. You’ll see why.”

_~Faithful to the bitter end…~_

Steve still looks confused, but Billy shoves into his shoulder to get him going.

“Go! Trust me.”

Steve eyes him still, but he goes to find Olivia, who’s off sulking in a chair in the corner of one of the canopy-tents.

Billy watches Steve walk away fondly before taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He takes a few breaths as he walks towards his target, psyching himself up, striking up his confidence…

“Grandma Genevieve?” Billy asks, making sure his voice is clear and free of any shakes. She’s sitting alone, thankfully.

She looks up with her piercing eyes, an eyebrow raised. That’s all she gives him.

“May I have this dance?”

Her clear eyes pierce him for a second, the song striking Billy in the chest, making him feel vulnerable.

She looks down at the cat still in her lap, before looking back up at Billy.

“Please?” He asks, not taking his eyes off of hers, even if he wants to know where Steve is and how far he’s gotten at convincing the other girl to follow him to the dance floor.

There’s another beat of silence, another line of the song hitting Billy hard, before she gives a smirk that lets him know maybe she really _does_ like him.

She takes his hand and stands, before slipping her bag off her shoulder and shoving it into the chest of a free-handed waiter walking by.

“Watch my child Cleo for me.” She states plainly, like it’s not a request. The young waiter’s eyes go wide as the cat peeks it’s head out and croaks a meow in his face. “If anything happens to her, you’ll be fired by the end of the day.”

She says it with a smile before Billy escorts her to the dance floor.

He turns his head and immediately sees Steve walking next to him, being pulled onto the dance floor by Olivia.

_~I need to prove to myself this is more than a crush…~_

The two boys lock eyes, Steve laughing a bit, Billy smiling easily.

_~Can you convince me it’s not just a physical rush…~_

Billy grabs Grandma Genevieve’s hands in his, interlocking their fingers, and begins stepping side to side. He watches her face for a second, and sees, surprisingly, something that looks like uncertainty. She’s watching their feet like she’s unsure of what they’re doing.

Billy chuckles a bit. She squeezes his hands so tight they hurt a little bit, and she sends him a glare to match. She must have heard him chuckling.

“Don’t laugh at me.” She chastises, before looking back down at their feet.

Billy keeps stepping side to side along to the beat as he looks up to find Steve, who’s dancing right behind his grandmother and facing Billy. They lock eyes over their partners. They’re swaying almost in time with each other. It’s like they’re dancing with each other.

_~Is this love that I’m feeling? Is this love…~_

Billy gives a little kissy face in Steve’s direction. Steve rolls his eyes and looks back down at his own partner, who’s currently standing on his feet with her own little ones as they dance.

Billy looks back down at Grandma Genevieve, who’s very clearly struggling.

“You’re doing well.” Billy tries to assure her. Her face twists up.

“I haven’t danced with anyone in a long time.” She admits quietly. Billy’s shocked to hear it.

“Well, there’s not much to it.”

He leads the way, stepping the two of them back and forth to the beat. She seems to relax a bit at the words and it hits Billy’s chest with pride.

There’s a very girlish giggle that snaps Billy back up to Steve, who’s swaying a little more forcefully now with his eleven year old partner in tow. He looks up at Billy and their eyes lock again.

They’re connected in an instant. The distance doesn’t matter.

_~Now look me straight in the eye ‘cause tonight is the night…~_

Billy’s heart is beating so rapidly he’s worried Grandma Genevieve will hear. Steve is looking at him like he loves him. Like he _really_ loves every bit and piece of him. Like he’ll never have to say it, never have to be asked again, it’s just a known fact of the world now. Steve Harrington is in love with Billy Hargrove and nothing is going to change that fact. It clings them together, to the point that Billy feels like he could be pressed to Steve’s chest right now, even though there’s several feet of distance between them.

_~We’ve got to ask each other if the moment is right…~_

Billy could melt onto the floor right now in a puddle. He feels ridiculous but he’s fine with that. He’s never been so into someone and he’s fine with that, too. He’s fine if he gets to see Steve’s eyes before he falls flat on his face in love. He’s fine if he gets to see that gorgeous smile forever and ever.

The chorus picks up again, singing loudly as Olivia swings Steve away, spinning them into an uncontrollable circle of smiles and giggles.

_~Is this love that I’m feeling?~_

The song sings as Steve and Olivia spin in a tornado of pastel colors, storming around the dance floor like a couple of children.

Grandma Genevieve laughs. It catches Billy off guard and makes him tear his face away from Steve and all his beauty.

“Do you wanna spin too?” He asks.

“Spin me and I rip that curly hair of yours out.” She promises, gripping his hands tight again.

The threat of it makes Billy laugh.

They dance out the rest of the song, but after it Grandma Genevieve is tired and Olivia’s mother is chastising her for causing a ruckus.

Billy sits down with Steve’s grandmother for a second, watching Steve intently as he speaks with Olivia.

He laughs as he sees the girl grab the flower Billy picked and give it to Steve, waving the boy down to her level so she can kiss his cheek and run away with a giggling, red face.

Steve watches her, laughing, before looking down at the flower with a kind of intent that Billy can see from yards away.

Grandma Genevieve is still worrying over her cat by the time Steve makes his way over.

“Hi Billy. Hi Grammy.”

“Steven, you made a fool of yourself.” She says immediately, without even looking up at him.

It smacks Billy hard in the chest, and he can only imagine what it must do to Steve. The two boys watch her, shocked at the harsh words.

She looks up at him, a rare smile wide on her face.

“It was rather charming.” She admits. Steve releases a breath, about to say something, before his grandma hits him lightly. “But don’t do it again.”

“Yes, Grammy.” Steve says obediently, with a small, disobedient smile on his face. Billy chuckles a bit at it.

“Well, it’s been a lovely afternoon, but I need to get going.” The woman stands up, accepting Steve’s help as he reaches a hand out to her. Billy stands as she does, and moves next to Steve.

The look she gives the two almost makes him nervous again; it’s harsh and judging and almost dissatisfied.

“Steven.”

“Yes, Grammy?”

She shifts a hard look over at Billy. He does his absolute best to keep her eye contact and stand as straight as possible. It makes him uncomfortable, even with all of the practice he got of standing at attention in his youth.

Her eyes shift back to Steve.

“I like this boy.” She says plainly, and something about it _immediately_ lifts the heaviest weight off of Billy’s chest. “He’s honest and he’s practical and he’s brave. And he’s definitely handsome.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Billy sighs out a bit. She waves a hand dismissively at him, telling him it was unnecessary before she turns back to Steve.

“Tell your mother I need that paperwork in the next 3 days, got it?” She pats Steve’s arm harshly and pulls him in for a light kiss on the cheek before turning to leave without getting a response. Billy’s not sure what she means, but he’s not even going to think about asking.

The two boys stay right where they are, rod straight, watching her walk away. It’s not until she’s a few yards out that they let out a collective breath.

“She likes you.” Steve says with amazement.

“Yeah… Guess so.”

There’s silence between them for a second, some Journey song playing in the background. A slight flash of purple hits Billy’s periphery.

“Hey by the way,” Steve starts, voice playfully wistful. “Thanks for the flower.”

Steve’s got a sly grin on his face. Billy looks over at the purpleish-reddish petals twirling delicately on top of the stem in Steve’s fingertips. The smile he gives in response is involuntary.

“You’re welcome, babe.” He says quietly, chest alight with _love_ and _love_ and a little bit of _love_ and maybe a dash of _love_... just for good measure.

And if Billy smiles every time he hears “Is This Love” by Survivor from now on… well he doesn’t see a need to explain why.

**Author's Note:**

> My heart is _full_ over these two.
> 
> thank you thank you thank you thank you _thank you_ [@hotdadlicense](https://okayshitbird.tumblr.com/) for this request. You're the light of my days and I'd write a love letter to you RIGHT NOW if that wouldn't be totally obnoxious for everyone else. 🥰
> 
> As for everyone else, I so hope you're well and I'm sending my best wishes out to you and yours. I mean it. Stay safe my lovelies.
> 
> Harringrove Prompt Tumblr: [@okaybutlikeimagine](https://okaybutlikeimagine.tumblr.com/)  
> Personal/Main Tumblr: [@pointeful](https://pointeful.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, I'm gonna go pretend to pay attention to my responsibilities.
> 
> Stay safe, stay sane, and I absolutely adore your soul ♥


End file.
